Kids and letters: The pen is mightier than the text message

My kid is growing up with a multitude of ways to communicate I never dreamed of in my own childhood. At age 8, my child already has her own email account. She knows how to text people and use instant messenger. At one point she even had her own blog. (It was mostly pictures of kittens cribbed from LOLcats and jokes she had heard at school, and we did not make it public because she is too young to know that trolls are real and also because if she gets more traffic than me I will lose all parental authority for good.)

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Bonus points if you write with this by candlelight.

So it makes perfect sense that she has started corresponding with us through hand written letters.

In some ways it’s very savvy. How often do you get a hand-written note nowadays? It certainly grabs your attention. She probably ought to write it on scented stationary with a quill, just for effect.

Actually, her letters bear more resemblance to marketing surveys than Victorian correspondence. On Christmas she was hounding my sister about when we would get to open presents, until my sister finally told her she would not entertain one more question about gift-opening, that she would let my kid know when it was time. Desperate for a loophole and a way to make her case once grandma had arrived, my child took a piece of butcher paper and pen, and then passed this to her aunt:

“I know I am not supposed to ask about presents but I was wondering if it would be time soon. Please check one of the boxes below.”

At the bottom of the page was a box next to the word “yes”, and one next to the word “no”, and one that said, “don’t ask”. My sister laughed, and our mother jumped in. “Why, of course we can open presents now!”

Later in the week at bedtime my child and I engaged in a full-scale argument complete with yelling until I finally insisted I would not discuss whatever the issue was any more, and retired for a time-out in the bathroom. When I emerged, this letter floated down the stairs at me:

“Dear Mama, We are not behaving like a good family should. Please reply on the back of this page. … P.S. I don’t like it when you yell at me.” There was a crude drawing of a sad little girl and a sort of scary looking figure I decided looked nothing like me.

I laughed, and took out a pen and wrote, “I agree, and so I would like to end the fight now. I am sorry I yelled and I love you very much. Your letters are very entertaining. P.S. Go to sleep now. Please. I said please, but that’s not really a request, it’s an edict.”

Because I’m her mother, I take these missives as signs of my child’s ability to break a stalemate through creativity. Another person might hear of her letter-writing campaign, and think, “My, now that’s a house full of sucka-fools.” Hey, pass that to me in note-form with a few bubbles to fill out in No. 2 pencil and I might think you made a good case.

KELLY MILLS is a freelance writer, personal trainer, and co-owner of

Phoenix Gym in Berkeley. She saves her favorite swear words for her own